


In Sickness And In Health

by flawedamythyst



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A Whole Lot Of Different Injuries, Bucky Just Wants To Take Care Of Clint, Clint Has Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 09:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16490285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Clint hates having other people around when he's injured or sick. Bucky finds it hard to adjust to.Daily drabbles that were written for Whumptober and originally posted on Tumblr.





	In Sickness And In Health

**Stabbed**

Bucky sprinted to Medical with his heart in his mouth. He could still see the knife going into Clint’s leg and hear his cry of pain as he’d gone down. Until he had the idiot in his hands, safe and warm and alive, he was going to be choking on the cold fear that this new, precious thing between them had already come to a bloody end.

Clint wasn’t in Medical though, and the doctor just shrugged when Bucky asked after him.

“We never see Hawkeye, unless he’s unconscious.”

What kind of idiot didn’t go to Medical after being stabbed?

 

**Bloody Hands**

Clint was holed up in his room. When Bucky knocked, JARVIS informed him that Clint didn’t want to be disturbed.

“He has given himself medical care and is resting.”

Bucky set a hand on the door and wondered who the hell wouldn’t want their boyfriend to take care of them. His eye caught on his metal fingers and bitter acid flooded his stomach. Someone with a boyfriend whose hands were drenched in blood, maybe. The Winter Soldier had caused more hurt than Bucky could ever heal, could he blame Clint for not wanting a killer around while he was vulnerable?

 

**Insomnia**

Clint stayed shut away for two days, which meant Bucky couldn’t sleep. His eyes were gritty with tiredness but he couldn’t relax enough to close them. He stared at his ceiling, unable to stop remembering Clint going down with the knife in his leg. How could he end the playback without seeing for himself that the injury wasn’t serious?

The door creaked open. 

“JARVIS said you couldn’t sleep,” whispered Clint. He was limping as he slipped into bed, but he was there and warm and alive. Bucky rolled over to wrap him up in his arms, finally able to relax.

 

**“No, stop!”**

Watching Clint sleeping in the warm light of the morning soothed Bucky’s fears. He stroked delicate fingers over Clint’s hair.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” said Clint, opening his eyes with a smile.

“Breakfast in bed?” Bucky offered. “And then a lazy day?”

The smile vanished as Clint sat up. “I’m going to the range.”

“You’re still hurt! Let me take care of you.”

“No, stop!” said Clint. “I’m not here to be coddled.” He got out of bed, leaning on the wall.

“I want to help,” said Bucky, helplessly.

“Then leave me alone,” said Clint, and limped out of the room.

 

**Poisoned**

Clint spent another week shut away, then acted as if he’d never been injured. Bucky told himself that their relationship was still pretty new and let it go, which was easy enough with Clint grinning at him across the range, taking him for pizza, or pressing close to kiss him.

And then every non-enhanced Avenger got food poisoning. Bucky took Gatorade to Clint’s room, only to find the door locked.

“Agent Barton wishes to recover alone,” said JARVIS. Bucky rested his forehead against the door for the length of a breath, then left the Gatorade where Clint would find it.

 

**Betrayed**

“It’s not you,” said Natasha when Bucky brought the soup back, rebuffed by a locked door again. “He doesn’t trust anyone when he’s sick.”

“I just want to take care of him.”

“Everyone who should have cared for him only took advantage of any weakness.” She pressed her lips tight. “He won’t risk relying on someone when experience has taught him that it never lasts, and always ends with being hurt.”

“This is going to last,” said Bucky, and it was only as he said it that he realised how much he meant it. “And I won’t ever hurt him.”

 

**Kidnapped**

Bucky got to the cells first, ripping his way through Hydra agents as he ploughed through the base. _My fault, my fault,_ rang on repeat in his head as he tore open the door keeping him from Clint, then his whole mind went silent.

Clint was chained to the wall, bloody and bruised and barely breathing. When Bucky dropped to his knees beside him, Clint cracked open an eye.

“Knew you’d come.”

“Clint,” said Bucky, looking for a place to touch where it wouldn’t hurt him more.

Clint somehow managed to roll his eyes. “It’s barely a scratch.”

 

**Fever**

Clint was too battered to avoid medical, although he did try. And then his wounds got infected, because of course they did.

Even with the doctors reassuring Bucky that Clint would get better, it was still painful to watch him suffer, but not as painful as when Bucky rested a metal hand on his forehead, hoping to cool his brow, and Clint flinched away so violently he nearly fell off the bed.

“I’m okay,” he slurred. “I c’n still shoot.”

“You don’t need to,” said Bucky. “Just rest.”

“No!” protested Clint, struggling to get up. “Can’t rest. Can’t be weak.”

 

**Stranded**

As soon as Clint’s fever broke and he was coherent again, he threw Bucky out.

“It’s bad enough the doctors won’t leave me alone, I’m not having you fussing as well.”

Bucky tried to stay away but he kept finding himself in the corridor, lingering as if he could do a damn thing to change Clint’s mind. He hated being stranded on the outside, thinking about all the ways he wanted to coddle Clint until he was better. Clint had been very clear that was the complete opposite of what he wanted, though. Maybe it was time to accept that.

 

**Bruises**

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from lurking in the lounge when Clint was released from Medical.

When Clint came through, he took one look at Bucky’s attempt to look casual and sighed.

“All right, Mother Hen,” he said. “Come on.”

Bucky followed him back to his room, where Clint pulled off his shirt and held his arms out.  
“Look, I’m fine. It’s just bruises now, and fuck knows I’ve had enough bruises.”

Bucky pressed a gentle hand next to a healing cut. He wanted to kiss it better, but Clint would never allow that. “Maybe don’t get kidnapped so often then.”

 

**Hypothermia**

It was January when a Doombot got a lucky shot and Clint ended up in the Hudson for two very long minutes before Tony pulled him back out, soaking wet and blue with cold.

Clint refused Medical, of course.

“JARVIS is already running a bath,” he said, fingers fumbling with a zipper.

“Is he going to undress you as well?” asked Bucky.

Clint tried the buckle of his quiver with numb fingers.

“Fine,” he snapped, gesturing at Bucky, but he stayed tense the whole time and the second the suit was off, he disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door.

 

**Electrocution**

It was an accident. Tony was refurbishing something in his lab, stripping out wires while Clint wheedled a new kind of arrow out of him and Bucky lounged against the wall, waiting to get lunch.

Then a bot knocked into Tony’s ladder, making him drop the wires right onto Bucky. Electricity shot through him, clenching all his muscles together and sending him into a flashback of Hydra’s chair.

When he came to, he was cradled against Clint’s chest.

“-the hell kind of safety-”

Clint cut off his yelling at Tony when Bucky shifted.

“Bucky?”

Bucky managed a nod. “Everything hurts.”

 

**“Stay.”**

Medical said Bucky just needed rest, so Clint helped him up to his room, then paused awkwardly by the bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“I don’t know how to do this. Look after someone.”

Every part of Bucky’s body ached. “Do you want to?” he asked, carefully.

Clint hesitated before he nodded, looking as if he’d surprised himself.

Bucky held out a hand. “Then stay. That’s all, just stay with me. Please.”

Clint climbed into bed and Bucky curled around him, resting his head on Clint’s shoulder. “Just having you with me is always enough.”

 

**Torture**

The mouthpiece was fitted between his teeth. Sometimes he thought the anticipation was the worst but then the chair whirred into life and he remembered, no, the _pain_ was so much worse, and then he was screaming.

Bucky woke up with a jolt, hyperventilating as tears filled his eyes. He curled into the warm arms that had closed around him, too out of it to do more than cling on.

When he’d finally calmed, he realised Clint was stroking his hair.

“Thanks,” he managed.

“You said I just needed to stay.”

“Yeah,” agreed Bucky, holding on tighter. “You’re perfect.”

 

**Manhandling**

Bucky looked up at the staircase, then over at Clint, who was resting his weight against the wall to keep it off his injured foot.

“I can make it without help,” he said, correctly reading Bucky’s thoughts.

“Sure,” agreed Bucky, although he really didn’t think he could, not up all six floors. “But before the back-up Hydra squad gets here?”

Clint’s scowl deepened. “You’re not carrying me.”

Bucky gave the staircase another pointed look.

Clint let out a long sigh. “Piggyback,” he gritted out. “That way I can shoot if we run into any bad guys.”

Bucky would take it.

 

**Bedridden**

Hydra had been too close this time. Bucky had been terrified that he’d end up back in their grasp and lose everything, including his deepening feelings for Clint.

When Clint disappeared into his room to patch up his foot, ignoring Medical as usual, Bucky couldn’t stop himself from staying on guard outside.

An hour passed, then JARVIS said, “Agent Barton says you can go in.”

Bucky was inside in seconds. Clint was lying on his bed, bandaged foot propped up on a pillow.

“You can sleep with me, if you promise not to fuss.”

Bucky sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

 

**Drugged**

Hydra caught them while they were out getting hotdogs, hitting them both with tranqs before they had a chance to fight back.

When Bucky woke up, they were locked in the back of a van and Clint was still out. He looked pale and limp, and Bucky gathered him up in his arms, close enough to feel his heart beating.

‘If he were awake, he’d never allow this,’ he thought, and then felt horribly guilty. He couldn’t bring himself to let go though, not when he was all too aware of what Hydra’s plans for them were likely to be.

 

**Hostage**

Bucky had had nightmares like this. Clint was still weak from the drugs, held tight by two Hydra agents while a third held a gun to his head. Their leader grinned at Bucky and gestured at the chair, and Bucky knew there was only one way this could end.

“I love you,” he said to Clint, which he really should have told him earlier rather than waiting for the last moments before he got wiped away from his own mind.

“You asshole!” said Clint as Bucky walked to the chair with heavy steps. “There’s no fucking way I’m worth this!”

 

**Exhaustion**

The rescue was more tiring than the abduction. The team turned up in time to stop Bucky going through the mindwipe procedure, but Hydra reinforcements arrived before they could get out and it was a hard fight back to the quinjet.

On the quinjet, finally heading home, Clint curled up against Bucky, clearly worn out and still affected by the drugs.

Bucky held him close, stroking a slow hand over his hair and wishing he got to take care of him like this after every fight.

“You’re more than worth it,” he whispered, once he was sure Clint was asleep.

 

**Concussion**

When the doctor told Clint that his concussion meant he’d need to have someone with him for the next twelve hours if he wanted to leave Medical, Bucky’s heart leapt.

Clint’s eyes flicked to his, then over his shoulder at Natasha. “Mind hanging out at mine for the night?”

It felt like a blow to the chest.

Bucky loved Clint. He loved every part of him, which included the way he hid away whenever he was vulnerable, but Bucky had been hoping that they were heading for a place where Clint could let himself be vulnerable with him. Apparently not.

 

**Harsh Climate**

The cabin was completely isolated and the blizzard outside wasn’t going to let up for hours. Bucky had anticipated a fight, but Clint pulled him down into the only bed and curled up in his arms, pressing close to share his body heat.

He was shivering but he slowly relaxed as Bucky held him close, rubbing his back and luxuriating in the moment.

He kissed Clint’s forehead. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Shit, that was too much. Clint would-

Cuddle closer into his arms and let out a gentle sigh. “You’re so warm. I love it,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

 

**Friendly Fire**

The blast from Thor’s lightning strike had hit them all. Clint had gone skidding into a wall, bruising himself up and scuffing off a chunk of skin on his back.

Bucky watched him take off his suit and inspect the damage in the mirror. There was no way he was going to be able to reach to patch it up himself.

“You want me to get Natasha to come dress that for you so you can avoid Medical?”

Clint frowned at him. “Can’t you do it?”

“Thought you’d prefer Nat,” said Bucky, trying not to let his jealousy explode out into rage.

Clint’s frown deepened into confusion, then cleared. “For staying close after a concussion, sure,” he said. “I knew she’d just stay on the couch and leave me alone. You’d want to fuss.”

“I don’t fuss,” muttered Bucky, turning back to his locker to hide his hurt.

When he looked back, Clint was holding a first aid kit out to him. “There’s no one I’d want to patch me up more than you,” he said. “Well, if I can’t do it myself, obviously.”

“Obviously,” agreed Bucky, and took the kit. With Clint, he’d always take what he could get.

 

**Self-sacrifice**

“Bucky’s a natural caregiver,” he heard Steve say, and froze outside the kitchen door. “He always was. When we were kids, he’d come by when I was sick and bring something to make me feel better, then stay to entertain me a while.”

“I’m not a kid, I don’t need to be coddled,” said Clint, and Bucky gritted his teeth.

“Bucky doesn’t think you do, he just feels better if he gets to look after you.”

“I’ve always just looked after myself,” said Clint.

“Maybe you need to think about giving that up,” said Steve. “Relationships need compromise, you know.”

 

**Drowning**

Clint’s coughs as he cleared the water out of his lungs were the best thing Bucky had ever heard. He’d been terrified that he’d never hear anything from him again as his lips grew blue and Bucky pressed at his chest, hoping his willpower would be enough to get Clint back.

“Fuck, fucking Namor,” mumbled Clint. “I’m gonna kill ‘im, gimme my bow.”

“It’s at the bottom of the ocean,” said Bucky.

Clint was gingerly feeling out the bruises that Bucky’s CPR had left behind, but his head jerked up.

“Aw, bow, no,” he said. “I’m definitely gonna kill him.”

 

**Restraints**

“Don't worry, doll,” said Bucky, tracing a delicate finger up Clint's straining erection. “I'm gonna look after you.”

Clint sucked in a breath, pulling at the cuffs holding his wrists to the headboard. “You better.”

He sounded too coherent, so Bucky mouthed at Clint's nipple and was rewarded with a shudder. “Just please. Please, Bucky. Touch me.”

Bucky loved it when they did this, for so many reasons, but getting to hear Clint’s desperation was his favourite. Clint didn't let anyone else get close to him when he was vulnerable, but like this, and under Bucky’s hands, he begged for it.

 

**Broken Ribs**

Clint snagged Bucky’s wrist before he could pass by Clint’s room and go into his own. “Come on.”

Inside, he sat on his bed and gave Bucky a sheepish grin.

“So, I lied to Cap.”

Bucky sighed. “Your ribs are broken.”

Clint shrugged. “Maybe just cracked. The point is, I need you to help me get my shirt off. And,” he hesitated, then forced the words out, not meeting Bucky’s eyes, “it’s easier if someone else wraps them.”

Bucky did his best not to beam at him as the warm glow of being trusted sank in. “I can do that.”

 

**“I can’t walk.”**

Clint was so relaxed against Bucky that he was basically liquid. As the movie credits rolled, Bucky contemplated his slack face, wondering how to get him to bed.

“Bedtime.”

Clint’s eyes flickered open. He looked blitzed, which Bucky had guessed would happen when he insisted on the second beer on top of the painkillers.

He tried to move, then winced as he pulled his cracked ribs. “I can’t walk.”

He sounded so pathetic that Bucky couldn’t stop himself from kissing his forehead. “You gonna sulk if I carry you?”

“Nah,” said Clint, shutting his eyes again. “I’m too tired for sulking.”

 

**Severe Illness**

Clint sneezed four times in a row, which triggered a coughing fit. Bucky forced himself not to say anything.

“Man, you sound sick,” said Sam. “Try Bucky’s hot lemon, that’s some good shit.”

Bucky felt a wave of frustration. Now that the cold had been mentioned, Clint would hide away from him.

Clint didn’t move. He gave Bucky a long look. “Yeah, okay.”

“What?”

Clint shrugged. “You always want to take care of me. Let’s try it.”

It took Bucky too long to realise the chance he was being handed. He leapt to his feet. “You’re getting hot lemon. And a blanket.”

 

**Seizure**

The snake was hidden in a pile of leaves that Clint decided to jump through because he was a big kid, even on a mission.

He seemed fine after the bite, so they carried on. It was only on their way to extraction that Clint started to slur his words. They were already on the chopper when Clint’s body locked up into a seizure.

“Go!” barked Bucky at the pilot. “We need medical!”

The seizure seemed to last for hours, but was probably less than a minute. Afterwards, Clint grabbed for Bucky’s hand.

“Don’t leave. Need you with me.”

“Always,” promised Bucky.

 

**Caregiver**

Clint talked his way out of hospital a lot earlier than Bucky was happy with while he was still seeing Clint’s body jerking through a seizure every time he closed his eyes.

“It’s cool,” Clint assured the doctor. “My boyfriend will look after me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, because like hell Clint was going to let him do that.

Clint gave him a warm, affectionate smile. “He’s a natural caregiver.”

“And you’re a natural pain in my ass,” muttered Bucky.

Clint squeezed Bucky’s hand, which he’d barely let go of since he’d regained consciousness. “You love it,” he said, contentedly.

 

**Showdown**

The first day out of the hospital, Clint just stayed on the sofa, watching Dog Cops or playing computer games. Bucky stayed with him, trying not to flinch every time Clint spoke because he was too busy anticipating being told to leave so that Clint could recover alone.

When it got to dinner time and Clint had shown no signs of wanting to be left alone, Bucky tentatively tried, “Are we ordering pizza? Or I can heat up some soup?”

That was almost certainly going to be a step too far, but he couldn’t stop himself from making the offer, not when Clint was still so very pale.

“Soup sounds good,” said Clint.

Bucky stared at him.

“What?” asked Clint, frowning back. “You offered, and I don’t know that my stomach is up for pizza just yet.”

Bucky bit his tongue, then nodded and stood up. “Soup it is, then.”

After dinner, they put on a movie that Clint fell asleep halfway through. Bucky fought the urge as long as he could, but couldn’t stop himself pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa to drape over him.

When the movie ended, he clicked the TV off, then found himself torn with indecision. If left to himself, Clint would happily sleep on the sofa all night, but Bucky knew his muscles were still aching from the snake’s venom, and he’d be far more comfortable in bed.

In the end, Clint solved the problem for him. He blinked his eyes open and gave Bucky a sleepy, warm smile. “Time for bed?”

“Yeah,” said Bucky.

Clint rubbed his cheek against the blanket, then let out a wide yawn. “Yeah, good call.” He held an arm out to Bucky. “Help?”

Bucky helped him up, then wrapped an arm around his waist when Clint kept leaning against him even once he was up. He felt like he was walking a tight-wire, hovering over the moment when Clint realised what was happened and closed down again.

It didn’t happen when Clint let Bucky help undress him and bring him his pyjamas, or when he let Bucky tuck the blankets around him, or even when he patted the bed beside him and sleepily demanded Bucky join him.

“I wanna get some cuddles in so I can steal your body heat. I’m still all shivery.”

Bucky couldn’t take it any more. “Where’s the line?”

Clint blinked a frown up at him. “What line?”

Bucky waved a vague hand. “The one that means you get all upset about being fussed over and kick me out. Clint, you’ve gotta be clear to me where it is, I can’t handle not being with you tonight, not after nearly losing you like that.”

Clint stared up at him, then shifted so he was more upright against the pillows. He looked serious and Bucky felt a chill of fear that this was going to be it, that asking and drawing attention to it had been the line.

“I don’t reckon there is one,” said Clint. “Not any more.”

It took Bucky a moment to realise what he’d heard. “What?” he asked. “What happened to not wanting me to see you weak, or whatever?”

Clint shrugged, staring down at his hands. “Seems like if you were going to lose interest, you’d have done it by now. And, uh, turns out I don’t hate being looked after.”

“You don’t?” said Bucky. “Because you worked pretty hard to make it seem like you did.”

Clint looked up at him. “I hate being made to feel useless,” he said. “I don’t want to be helpless. You never made me feel like that, though, not even when I was being a dick about stuff I really couldn’t do for myself. You just made me feel...I don’t know. Loved, I guess.”

“You are loved,” said Bucky, his heart pounding in his ears. “Clint, you haveta know that. I love you, and I want to look after you.”

Clint nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “I do know that. And I love you, I really do. So much, so that even when you’re fussing, all I want to do is just let you, because I know it’s what you need.” He took a deep breath, then slid open his nightstand drawer. “So, uh. I was gonna wait for this until I wasn’t feeling like shit, but in sickness and in health, right?” He pulled out a ring box and held it out to Bucky. “Will you fuss over me for the rest of our lives?”

Bucky’s heart stopped in his chest, and he sank onto the bed as his knees gave out. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, sweetheart.” He reached out for the ring box, opening it to look at the simple gold ring inside. “Of course I will.”


End file.
